Martin Heffernan
Who Controls European Foreign Policy? Lessons From The ENP
Bachelor of Arts in Politics and International Relations
2
Name:
Martin Heffernan
ID Number:
09000832
Project Title:
Who Controls European Foreign Policy? Lessons
From The ENP
Internal Supervisor:
Dr. Frank M. Häge
External Examiner:
Dr. Jane O’Mahony
Degree Title:
Bachelor of Arts in Politics and International
Relations
Date:
22 February 2012
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4
Abstract
Scholarly debate on how best to explain the process of European integration has raged for
decades. This ongoing quest has generated a multitude of theories that purport to demystify
all that has happened since the establishment of the European Coal and Steel Community
(ECSC) in 1951. Two of those explanatory vehicles – neofunctionalism and
intergovernmentalism – have informed most of the academic literature on the subject. Even
though the validity of both of these so-called ‘grand theories’ have regularly been called into
question it is argued that the central tenets of each are still possessed of considerable utility
for contemporary researchers. To that end this paper will apply their respective claims to
real-world events in order to try and determine if European foreign policy is controlled by
the member states of the EU or if the institutions of the union wield the ultimate power when
it comes to framing relations with the greater world. This will be primarily achieved by
conducting an analysis of official EU documentation, academic assessments and media
reportage related to the European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP). The picture gleaned from
this material is quite clear. Member states continue to determine the trajectory of the EU’s
external relations, although this is not always overtly expressed. This conclusion is further
buttressed by the regularity with which other institutional actors acknowledge the
preeminence of the EU27 in the foreign policy hierarchy and the particular, and enduring,
arrangements applied to this area of endeavour in the union’s Treaties.
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Contents
Acknowledgements
6
Author’s declaration
7
List of Abbreviations
8
Introduction
9-11
Section 1
-
Theories of European Integration
11-23
Section 2
-
The Evolution of European Foreign Policy
23-29
Section 3
-
Who Controls the ENP?
29-40
Section 4
-
Conclusions
40-42
Bibliography
43-48
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Acknowledgements
I am particularly thankful to my supervisor Dr. Frank Häge. His advice and guidance from
the very earliest stages of the process onwards were invaluable. Thanks are also due to the
innumerable students and academic staff at the University of Limerick (UL) for their
unwitting contributions to the conception and execution of this project.
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Declaration
This Final Year Project (FYP) is purely and solely my own work and has, in so far as was
possible, properly acknowledged each and every external source used in it. Any errors or
omissions contained therein are my responsibility alone.
---------------------Martin Heffernan
22 February 2012
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List of Abbreviations
CFSP
Common Foreign and Security Policy
CAP
Common Agricultural Policy
DG E
Directorate-General for External Affairs
ECSC
European Coal and Steel Community
EEC
European Economic Community
EDC
European Defence Community
ESDP
European Security and Defence Policy
EU
European Union
ENP
European Neighbourhood Policy
EPC
European Political Cooperation
EEAS
European External Action Service
ECJ
European Court of Justice
IGC
Intergovernmental Conference
LI
Liberal Intergovernmentalism
NATO
North Atlantic Treaty Organisation
PSC
Political and Security Committee
SEA
Single European Act
TEU
Treaty on European Union
WEU
Western European Union
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Introduction
For almost six decades scholars have sought to explain what has driven European
integration. During the initial phases of that process “… the literature was essentially
divided between neofunctionalists (who theorized integration as a gradual and self-sustaining
process) and intergovernmentalists (who emphasized the persistent gate-keeping role of
national governments)” (Pollack 2001, p. 222). In more recent times the field of explanation
has become a little more crowded.
One of the more notable contributions to this ongoing debate was that advanced by
Andrew Moravcsik. From the early 1990s onwards he has argued that neither of the grand
theories referred to above (but most particularly neofunctionalism) were sufficiently
comprehensive to provide an intellectually satisfactory explanation of how the European
project has evolved from the six-state European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC)
established in 1951 to the 27 (soon to be 28) member European Union (EU) of today.
Moravcsik believed this task was most likely to be successfully accomplished by viewing the
developments of the last sixty years through the prism of what he described as ‘liberal
intergovernmentalism’ (1993). At its core this theoretical framework had “… three essential
elements: the assumption of rational state behaviour, a liberal theory of national preference
formation, and an intergovernmentalist endgame of interstate negotiation” (ibid., p. 480).
Just over a decade and a half after initially setting forth the key characteristics of his
explanatory vehicle Moravcsik (in collaboration with an academic colleague) claimed that
“Liberal Intergovernmentalism (LI) has acquired the status of a ‘baseline theory’ in the study
of regional integration…” due to “…its theoretical soundness, empirical power, and utility as
a foundation for synthesis for with other explanations” (Moravcsik and Schimmelfennig
2009, p. 67).
While the frequency with which LI is utilized in academic works may give some
credence to this assertion it should be acknowledged that others have sought to advance
explanations slightly at variance with those underpinning the two grand theories for the way
in which European integration has moved forward in the time since its beginnings in the
post-World War II period (e.g. Pierson 1996, Bache et al 2011, Stone Sweet and Sandholtz
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1997). However, one would do well to bear in mind that even though intergovernmentalism
of the kind conceived by Moravcsik may have acquired for itself a preeminent position in the
analysis of European integration some contend that “… neofunctionalist thinking [has]
turned out to be very much alive, even if it was usually being re-branded as a different
animal” (McGowan 2007, p. 3). The task facing anyone endeavouring to arrive at a
satisfactory conclusion about whom or what is driving this process is further complicated by
the suggestion that the differences between the competing scholarly approaches may not be
as fundamental as some have claimed. Apparently unbridgeable gaps can, it seems, be
caused “… by the arbitrariness of the empirical foundation: had another sector [of European
integration] been chosen, the analyst may have come to contrary conclusions” (Schmidt
1996, p. 234).
This is something that should always be at the forefront of researchers’ minds. While
it is more often than not true that sound, generally applicable theory can be derived from
relatively narrow areas of study there may be some reason to believe that European
integration, and its many different facets, is less amenable to such an outcome. The lessons
that can be drawn tend to relate to one particular area of that process and, at times, can be
‘issue-specific’ (Moravcsik and Schimmelfennig 2009, p. 70).
In this paper our focus is on the EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP).
The principal aim of the research is to determine whether the direction it has taken is as a
result of the wishes of the governments of the 27 EU member states or if it is the institutions
of the union, most particularly the Commission, that have exerted the most significant
influence on the evolution of the CFSP. As space constraints do not permit us to address
each and every initiative which the policy as a whole has generated over the past two
decades we will instead endeavour to answer our research question by examining one of its
more recently established components, the European Neighbourhood Policy (ENP). Its
objective “… is to share the benefits of the EU’s 2004 enlargement with neighbouring [but
non-member] countries in strengthening stability, security and well-being for all concerned”
( Commission of the European Communities 2004, p. 3). At the time of writing sixteen
states and territories (Algeria, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Egypt, Georgia, Israel, Jordan,
Lebanon, Libya, Moldova, Morocco, Occupied Palestinian Territory, Syria, Tunisia, and
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Ukraine) to the south and east of the EU were signatories to the “… bilateral policy…”
(European Commission 2010).
The paper will be organized as follows. Section 1 will outline some of the key
explanations of European integration. Particular attention will be paid to the two dominant
theories – neofunctionalism and intergovermentalism – in this field of scholarly endeavour.
This review of the literature is central to our prospects of adequately addressing the research
question at the heart of this project as our findings will ultimately be determined by which, if
any, of the theoretical perspectives mostly closely relates to the real-world events described
in our source material. Section 2 will trace the evolution of European foreign policy from
the inception of the integration process in the early 1950s, through the adoption of European
Political Cooperation (EPC) at the beginning of the 1970s, and finally the establishment of
the CFSP as a result of the Treaty on European Union (TEU), which was signed at
Maastricht in 1992. There are two principal benefits to be derived from this exercise. First,
it helps to illustrate that EU foreign policy as it is currently constituted is the product of no
little contestation and disagreement. Second, and possibly more importantly, this historical
trawl shines a light on the attitudes to and changes in the roles played by the institutional
actors in relation to the union’s external projection of itself. In section 3 the centrepiece of
the paper’s research agenda will be dealt with. We will endeavour to discover whether it is
the EU’s institutions, most notably the Commission, or the member states that have exerted
the most influence on the shaping of the ENP. This task will be accomplished by analyzing
official EU documentation generated by the policy, academic assessments of the roles played
by the institutional actors and media reportage of the initiatives and controversies associated
with the policy since its inception. Section 4 will draw conclusions on which of the
dominant theories of European integration, if any, best explains the development of
European foreign policy in the post-Maastricht period.
Theories of European Integration
The European integration process is widely agreed to have begun in April 1951. It was on
the eighteenth day of that month that the governments of Belgium, Italy, Luxembourg, the
Netherlands, France and West Germany signed the Treaty of Paris (Bache et al 2011, p. 3),
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which established the ECSC. The significance of these six states deciding to formalize the
relationships between their respective coal and steel industries cannot be overstated. It “…
has meant that the economies of participating states, and subsequently other areas, have been
increasingly managed in common” (ibid.). The decision of the founder members of the
ECSC to bind themselves together in the manner outlined in the Treaty also caused
considerable surprise to International Relations (IR) scholars. During the first half of the
twentieth century “… the nation state seemed assured of its place as the most important unit
of [international] political life in the western world, especially in Europe” (ibid.). Now,
though, the leaders of some of the continent’s most powerful and economically successful
countries (notwithstanding the ongoing legacy effects of World War II) had agreed to divest
themselves of the some of the powers that their forebears had spent so long trying to build
up. The ECSC six relinquished the “sole right to make legislation … in favour of joint
decision making with other governments” (ibid.). These states also delegated specific tasks
to newly established European institutions, which included “… a High Authority, an
Assembly, a Council of Ministers and a Court of Justice” (Europa 2010). As indicated earlier
these developments were very much at variance with the dominant IR theory (i.e. that the
state is the preeminent unit of political life) of the time. In order to better understand how
the first dominant theory of European integration emerged it is necessary to briefly step
outside the regional thrust of this paper.
The two major world conflicts that occurred during the first half of the twentieth
caused many to wonder what could be done to ensure that war on this scale would not break
out again. In the view of the Romanian-born academic David Mitrany “… the root cause of
[these and other] war[s] was nationalism” (Bache et al 2011, p. 5). While this analysis may
not have been particularly revolutionary the theoretical response to such a malign state of
affairs that Mitrany came to be primarily associated with was considerably more radical.
From the eighteenth century onwards the burgeoning desire for “… national selfdetermination…” (Tilly 1994, p. 133) was arguably the preeminent force in European
politics. Most that sought to achieve this goal argued that it would only be truly realised if
the national group in question had a state of their own. The apparent dominance of this point
of view largely informed the thinking of ‘realist’ IR scholars who deemed the nation state to
be “… the most important unit in political life…” (Bache et al 2011, p. 3). As already noted,
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Mitrany regarded the veneration of the state as being, in part at least, responsible for the
almost ceaseless conflict in Europe and elsewhere since this mode of political organisation
began to be widely adopted. In his view much, if not all, of the strife emanating from interstate disputes could be eliminated if the world organised itself along functionalist lines.
Proponents of this theoretical perspective “… assert that all national divisions, potential
dangers and enemies are created by states” (Kurt 2009, p. 43). They also hold “… a very
positive view …” of human nature and believe in “… the idea of human progress”. “For
functionalism, rational, peaceful progress is possible; conflict and disharmony are not
inherent features of human being[s]” (ibid., p. 44). According to Mitrany and his acolytes,
the “… defining paradigm[s] of realism such as competition, conflict, and self-interest”
should, and could, be dispensed with in favour of “cooperation” (ibid., p. 43).
He vehemently argued that the narrow, state-centric mode of political organisation
adopted in recent centuries did not tally with the realities of human interaction. “If one were
to visualize a map of the world showing economic and social activities, it would appear as an
intricate web of interest and relations crossing and recrossing political divisions – not a
fighting map of States and frontiers, but a map pulsating with the realities of everyday life”
(Mitrany 1948, pp 358-359). In his view “They are the natural basis for international
organizations: and the task is to bring that map, which is a functioning reality, under joint
international government, at least in its essential lines. The political lines will then in time
be overlaid and blurred by this web of joint relations and administrations” (ibid., p. 359).
There were, according to Mitrany, practical, on-the-ground ways in which this radical shift in
thinking would impact on the organisation of human affairs. He proposed that “Railways
would be organized on a continental basis; shipping would be organized on an
intercontinental basis; aviation would be organized on a universal basis” (Bache et al 2011,
p. 5). By his reckoning the likely positive effects of operating these services without regard
to borders would “… make it difficult for governments to break with them…” and, just as
importantly, “… socialize politicians, civil servants, and the general public into adopting less
nationalistic attitudes” (ibid., pp 5-6).
When one considers the impact such attitudes had on the European continent between
1939 and 1945 it is not surprising that leading political figures in some of the states most
grievously harmed by the events of those years should endeavour to develop ways to try and
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ensure that conflict on that scale never broke out again. Although some maintain that the
founding fathers of the ECSC – Jean Monnet, the French Planning Commissioner, and
Robert Schuman, the French Foreign Minister – “… were essentially ‘pragmatic federalists’”
(Moga 2009, p. 797) there is also good reason to believe the organisation they did so much to
establish was greatly influenced by the functionalist belief system. That suspicion is further
buttressed by the continuous efforts of Monnet, during his term as President of the High
Authority of the ECSC between 1952 and 1955, to ensure that member countries never lost
sight of “… the danger[s] of nationalism, the anachronistic nature of the state, the importance
of common solutions to common problems, the role of new institutions, and the need for
lasting peace in Europe” (Kurt 2009, p. 55). To that end the sort of relationship that would
be forged between West Germany and its partner states in the ECSC was crucial. If the
latter, diminished though it was by the ravages of World War II, was ever to reemerge as a
major industrial power (which it did) it was envisaged that history would not repeat itself and
that, instead, the Treaty-based, institutionally supported “… economic links and agreement
with Germany…” would ensure that the former belligerent would stay “… safely and
securely in Western Europe” (ibid., p. 54). For a continent still dealing with the aftermath of
the biggest conflict it had ever known the partial, voluntary downgrading of the much-loved
nation state and the related move towards a functionalist arrangement must (for most) have
seemed like a worthwhile compromise. This development also gave rise to a new field of
enquiry for political scientists.
“Two events of great importance in the history of European integration happened in
1958”, according to Desmond Dinan. “One was the launch of the European Economic
Community (EEC); the other was the publication of Ernst Haas’ The Uniting of Europe”
(quoted in Ruggie et al 2005, p. 277). While some may regard the attribution of equal
importance to these events as grossly overstating the significance of the monograph
produced by the German-born academic Dinan argued that “… they were in fact inextricably
linked” (Ruggie et al 2005, p. 277). Indeed, even those that view the contribution made by
Haas and his fellow neofunctionalists to the study of European integration with profound
scepticism do not deny that his ideas must always be confronted (if only to try and disprove
them) when engaging in research on this topic. The work of Andrew Moravcsik (who has
been a prolific contributor to this field of enquiry) is a case in point. In a paper dedicated to
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exploring the legacy of neofuctionalism he baldly stated it “… is not a theory, in the modern
sense, but a framework comprising a series of unrelated claims” (Moravcsik 2005, p. 350).
He further claimed that “Haas’s bias towards ‘ever closer union’ meant that this framework
was overambitious, one-sided and essentially unfalsifiable” (ibid.). Despite his evisceration
of what he regarded as a non-theory Moravcsik still saw fit to begin a section entitled
“Neofunctionalism and the Fallacies of Grand Theorizing” with the arguments set forth in
Haas’s “… classic monograph…” (ibid., p. 351).
What, though, were those arguments? Those that rowed in behind the ideas
expressed in The Uniting of Europe typically made four points in support of them. These
are: “(1) The concept of the ‘state’ is more complex than realists suggested; (2) The activities
of interest groups and bureaucratic actors are not confined to the domestic political arena; (3)
Non-state actors are important in international politics; (4) European integration is advanced
through ‘spillover’ pressures” (Bache et al 2011, p. 8). Proponents of this theoretical
perspective claim that the development arc of the ECSC and its successor organizations the
EEC and the EU can be plausibly understood in the terms just outlined. For example, they
would contend “… that integration occurs when organized economic interests pressure
governments to manage economic interdependence by centralising policies and creating
common institutions” (McGowan 2007, p. 6). While, in the case of the ECSC, these
demands may have only gathered pace after the signing of the Treaty of Paris and the
consequent establishment of supranational European institutions (the High Authority,
Assembly, Council of Ministers and Court of Justice) it was suggested in the immediate
aftermath that “… representatives of the coal and steel industries in all of the member
states…” would most likely switch “… at least a part of their political lobbying from
national governments to the new supranational agency…” (Bache et al 2011, p. 10). Such a
development would, in the view of neofunctionalists, have far-reaching consequences for
where power resided in Europe. The initial decision of the founder members of the ECSC to
cede at least some of their sovereign decision-making powers led, it is argued, to “… both
economic and political spillovers that push[ed] regional integration forward”, regardless of
whether or not it was the intention of the states that made up the community (McGowan
2007, p. 6). In the case of so-called spillover early neofunctional theorists (writing before
the first EEC enlargement in 1973) “… argued that if member states integrated one
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functional sector of their economies, the interconnectedness between this sector and others
would lead to a ‘spillover’ into other sectors” (Bache et al 2011, p. 9). If, for example, it was
decided “… to increase coal production among member states, it would prove necessary to
bring other forms of energy into the scheme. Otherwise a switch by one member state away
from coal towards a reliance on oil or nuclear fuels would throw out all of the calculations
for coal production” (ibid.). Neofunctionalists also, as indicated above, paid considerable
attention to the political dimensions of the process. While the ECSC and its successor
organisations came about as a result of a series of treaties signed by sovereign, independent
states those of this perspective maintained that the role of institutional actors in relation to
integration should not be underestimated. By their reckoning these “… supranational
organisations…” were possessed of sufficient “…meaningful autonomous capacity to pursue
integrative agendas…” (Stone Sweet and Sandholtz 1997, p. 301). Indeed, some have
suggested that those in senior positions in these bodies actively “Try to expand the gaps in
member state control, and they will use any accumulated political resources to resist efforts
to curtail their authority” (Pierson 1996, p. 132). This alleged determination to engage in
policy entrepreneurship also has, particularly when perceived to be ‘successful’, a slightly
mysterious quality to it. This reading of the neofunctionalist position argues “… that the
essence of integration lies in the fact that this is not the result of conscious choice” or, to put
it more colloquially, “… it is not really about what it seems to be about” (Moravcsik 2005, p.
351).
Classical intergovernmentalist explanations of European integration (which we will
discuss in more detail later in the paper) emphasise the centrality of member states in
decision-making and determining the trajectory of the community’s policies. In contrast,
neofunctionalists claim that this portrayal of the integration process is overly simplistic and
can be significantly influenced in ways which the countries that make up the union may
never have envisaged by a multitude of non-state actors. While the initial decision to
delegate power and authority to such entities may be made by national governments allowing
“… experts, judges and bureaucrats … to manage complex technocratic issues…” is likely to
result in these “… powerful supranational actors…” (ibid., pp 352-353) bringing about
outcomes which member states may not have explicitly sought to bring about.
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The relatively rapid pace at which European integration proceeded in the 1950s and
1960s seemed to suggest that, whatever deficiencies it may have had, neofunctionalism was
of some considerable utility when it came explaining this process. However, real-world
events would cast serious doubts on its validity, something which Ernst Haas himself was
very much aware of (Ruggie et al 2005, p. 279). By the early 1970s the seemingly
unstoppable integrative trajectory had virtually come to a shuddering halt. Contrary to what
Haas, and his fellow neofunctionalists, had predicted ever closer European union did not
develop “… steadily…” but by “… stops and starts” instead (Moravcsik 2005, p. 354). The
seeds of what some described as ‘eurosclerosis’ (a combination of sluggish economic
performance and stalled integration) were arguably sown in the mid-1960s. Although it may
be overly simplistic to do so some analysts have identified one European leader in particular
as being principally responsible for this slowing of the integration process – French President
Charles De Gaulle. It is claimed that he was “… a living embodiment of the realpolitik
backlash against integration (Ruggie et al 2005, p. 279). This contention is backed up by the
belief that the former army general “… put a sudden stop to the gradual expansion of tasks
and authority by the Commission and to the prospective shift to majority voting in the
Council…” and “… also made a full-scale effort to convert the EEC/EC into an instrument
of French foreign policy” (ibid.). De Gaulle’s determination to restore the nation-state to the
centre of the European project was most explicitly illustrated by the so-called ‘empty chair
crisis’. From July 1965 onwards the French government began boycotting “… the meetings
of the Council and insisted on a political agreement concerning the role of the
Commission… [most notably in relation to the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP)]”
(Europa 2007). The dispute was eventually resolved in January 1966 by the Luxembourg
Compromise, which stated that “… when vital interests of one or more countries are at stake
members of the Council will endeavour to reach solutions that can be adopted by all while
respecting their mutual interests” (ibid.). While this particular impasse was resolved it was
to be some time before the kind of integrative initiatives characteristic of the 1950s and
1960s would be attempted again.
This was reflected in the reappraisal of neofunctionalism that was conducted by Haas
in response to the slowdown. On two occasions in the 1970s he declared that own theory
had become “obsolescent” (Ruggie et al 2005, p. 279). These very public pronouncements
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had a profound effect on the academic study of regional integration. A dramatic illustration
of this phenomenon can be gleaned from the fact that “… of the 10 contributors to …
[Lindberg and Scheingold’s 1971] magnum opus of theorizing…” on the subject “… only
one (Donald Puchala) was still writing on the subject 10 years later” (ibid.). However,
neofunctionalism experienced something of a revival in the 1980s. In the middle of that
decade the integration process picked up pace again. The “… unanticipated breakthrough of
the signature and easy ratification of the Single European Act [SEA]…” in particular saw
interest in Haas’s grand theory blossom once more (ibid., p. 280). This new found
enthusiasm also saw those that saw most merit in the neofunctionalist/supranationalist
account sub-divide “… into two further strands…” which “… has given rise to rationalist
and constructivist interpretations” (McGowan 2007, p. 1).
Even though “… almost
everyone [now] recognizes that no single theory or approach can explain everything one
would like to know or predict about the EU…” Haas’s “… work on regional integration
continues to be read and cited…” (Ruggie et al 2005, p. 280). Such enduring interest does
not mean, however, that other explanations for European integration have ceased to be
advanced.
The most prominent of these is intergovernmentalism. This perspective on what has
occurred since the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1951 is, it could be argued, much simpler
and less opaque than its principal theoretical rival. Those that developed this explanatory
vehicle claim that “… the EC is essentially a forum for interstate bargaining. Member states
remain the only important actors at the European level” (Pierson 1996, p. 124, emphasis
added). While this depiction of intergovernmentalism could cause one to believe the main
response to neofunctionalism is virtually indistinguishable from the ‘realism’ so beloved of
many IR scholars pre the start of the European integration process that is not quite the case.
It is true that Stanley Hoffman’s challenge to Haas’s explanation for how the ECSC and early
EEC developed “… drew heavily on realist assumptions about the role of states, or more
accurately, the governments of states in IR” (Bache et al 2011, p. 11). However, he also “…
acknowledged that actors other than national governments played a role in the process of
integration”, most probably “… in the ‘low-politics’ sectors (for example, social and regional
policy)” (ibid.). Even though this commonality of thought may suggest these competing
grand theories were not as different as first appeared it would be a mistake to reach such a
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conclusion. While both Haas and Hoffman agreed that national governments were not the
only actors in the integration process the latter strongly argued that the theory he vehemently
opposed “… was based on ‘false arithmetic’ that assumed the power of each elite group
(including national governments) was approximately equal, so that if the governments were
outnumbered they would lose” (ibid.).
After all, how could such an outcome come about when those charged with running
their respective states seemed to have considerably more cards to play than the disparate
interest groups that opposed them? Governments, in Hoffman’s view, were “… uniquely
powerful [when it came to these kinds of confrontations] for two reasons: first, because they
possessed legal sovereignty; and second, because they had political legitimacy as the only
democratically elected actors in the integration process” (ibid., p. 12). This power was of
particular importance when it came to the role of and autonomy afforded to Europe’s
supranational institutions. As a consequence these bodies, and the agents associated with
them, “… exercise only marginal influence at best, the intergovernmentalists contend, and
this, on many occasions, turns out to be either redundant or self-defeating” (Puchala 1999, p.
319). At times, the contrary can appear to be the case. This mirage is most vividly on show
during the frequent occasions when the responsibility “… for monitoring and implementing
intergovernmental agreements…” is assigned “… to international secretariats and courts…”
(ibid.). The reality, though, at least according to the intergovernmentalist school of thought,
is that “… the initiators, promoters, mediators, legislators, and promulgators of deepening
and broadening European integration are the national governments in general, the
governments of the major EU countries in particular, and heads of government, heads of state
and powerful ministers specifically” (ibid.).
There is, however, a point to be made about the policy areas where national
governments are less likely to adopt a hard-line stance and, on the surface at least, let the
supranational institutions play a leading role. In the case of trade “… the Treaties allow to
EU to operate like a quasi-federal state…” (Jordan 2001, p. 195). The principal effect of this
concession by the member countries is that, from time to time, one or a larger number of
them may have to accept the adoption of policies that would probably never have seen the
light of day if they had been exclusively subject to intergovernmental bargaining. Another
significant impact of allowing trade issues to be decided upon in the manner outlined above
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is the central position this affords to the Commission, which is, it should be borne in mind,
“… the legal guardian of the Treaties” (ibid.).
However, other, presumably vital,
competencies are jealously guarded by the member states, meaning that “… decisions are
reached after intergovernmental bargaining following the doctrine of unanimity in
international organisations” (ibid.). The most notable examples of where movement is only
possible following government-to-government deliberation are to be found in the areas of
Justice and Home Affairs and the CFSP (ibid.). At times it may be difficult to pinpoint when
and where states or the European institutions can be plausibly be regarded as the lead actors
in any given area for which the EU (comprising all its constituent parts) has gained
responsibility. The principal difficulty inherent in this task is articulated in the contention
that “… what appears to be autonomy may simply reflect the principals’ [member states] deft
use of oversight” (Pierson 1996, p. 134).
While problems such as this muddy the water to a certain degree the central thrust of
intergovernmentalism (notwithstanding any revisions in the intervening period) is as clear as
when first spelt out by Stanley Hoffman in the 1960s. He, it is worth reminding ourselves,
based his theory on three main criticisms he had of neofunctionalism. First, the account of
European integration offered by Haas and others was too regionally focused and therefore
“… predicated on an internal dynamic, and implicitly assumed that the international
background conditions would remain fixed” (Bache et al 2011, p. 11). Second, “National
governments were uniquely powerful actors in the process of European integration: they
controlled the nature and pace of integration guided by their concern to protect and promote
the ‘national interest’” (ibid.). The third leg of Hoffman’s critique of neofunctionalism is
slightly more conciliatory in nature in that it concedes “… where ‘national interests’
coincided, governments might accept closer integration in the technical functional sectors,
[but] the integration process would not spread to areas of ‘high politics’ such as national
security and defence” (ibid., emphasis added).
As suggested earlier in the paper the tenets underpinning intergovernmentalism has
been subject to some scholarly revision in the decades since they were first articulated. The
most prominent, and widely cited, contribution in that regard has been that by Andrew
Moravcsik. Like Hoffman, he was (and continues to be) strongly critical of the proposition
advanced by neofunctionalists and also puts considerable store on the realist assumption that
21
states are rational actors (ibid., pp 12-13). Moravcsik and his intellectual forebear are not
quite at one on the level of importance that should be attached to political activities within
each of the states that make up the EU. The former maintains that the positions that these
countries adopt when they finally come together to negotiate on the policies that the EU will
collectively pursue is, to a considerable extent, determined by the priorities that a multitude
of interest groups suggest are of most importance to them, and possibly the national
government as well. Moravcsik’s Liberal Intergovernmentalism is best understood as having
three essential elements. The first of these is founded on “… the assumption of rational state
behavior…” (1993, p. 480). LI is also notable, and different from the Hoffman position, in
that it believes in the existence of “… a liberal theory of national preference formation…”
(ibid.).
Its third essential element is more old-school as it utilizes “… an
intergovernmentalist analysis of interstate negotiation” (ibid.).
Moravcsik further suggests that what happens when the Council of Ministers (of
whatever area of competence) meet in such circumstances can be “… divided into two
logically sequential stages” (Bache et al 2011, p. 13). Typically those that are party to the
discussion will first attempt to “… reach agreement on the common policy response to the
problem…” at hand (ibid.). If they can manage to do that the government representatives
will then endeavour to forge an “… agreement on the appropriate institutional arrangments”
(ibid.). Moravcsik claims such a linear progression is evident is the decision by the EU (or
the EEC as it was when the idea was first mooted) to establish monetary union and the
subsequent discussions “… over the constitution of a European Central Bank…” (ibid.).
Having dealt in some detail with the two so-called grand theories of European
integration, and some of their more contemporary offshoots, it seems appropriate at this point
to briefly discuss some of the other explanations for the process that began over six decades
ago.
Paul Pierson (1996) is largely in agreement with those who argue that the
intergovernmentalist account has exaggerated the extent of member-state control over the
integration process. He suggests that more plausible reasons for what has (and continues to)
transpire can be divined by adopting a historical institutionalist analysis. This approach,
Pierson argues, benefits from its understanding of European integration as a process that
needs to be studied over time. By contrast, the integovernmentalist concentration on
member-state preferences is greatly weakened by the short-term and constantly evolving
22
nature of these concerns. Others that have entered this field of enquiry have sought to “…
cut
through
the
dichotomy…”
of
the
integovernmentalism
versus
supranationalism/neofunctionalism debate (Bache et al 2011, p. 14). Alec Stone Sweet and
Wayne Sandholtz (1997) contend that there is much that can be learned about European
integration by observing the phenomenon of supranational governance. To that end their
theory “… relies on three factors: exchange, organization, and rules” (ibid., p. 313). It is also
underpinned by the argument “… that if the EU was to be analysed as an international
regime, as Moravcsik insisted it could be, then it had to be seen not as a single regime but as
a series of regimes for different policy sectors” (Bache et al 2011, p. 14). They further claim
that as “… transactions across national boundaries are increasing…” it is virtually certain
“… a supranational society of relevant actors would emerge” (ibid.). One of the “… most
recent significant contribution[s] comes from authors closely associated with the concept of
multi-level governance, which has strong antecedents in neofunctionalism” (ibid., p. 17).
Liesbet Hooghe and Gary Marks place considerable emphasis “… on the importance of
identity in the process of European integration” and, as consequence, suggest that “…
theorizing [in this area] needs to move beyond the intergovernmentalist-neofunctionalist
preoccupation with economic interests” (ibid.). Their views are encapsulated in the
contention that “Functional pressures are one thing, regime outcomes are another.
Community and self governance, expressed in public opinion and mobilized in political
parties, lie at the heart of jurisdictional design” (quoted in Bache et al 2011, p. 17).
Having outlined the key elements of both grand theories of European integration and
some of the less utilized explanations of the process it seems appropriate at this point to
pinpoint which, if any, of them we would expect to best account for the direction the ENP
has taken since its inception less than a decade ago. If we had attempted to read the runes at
any point during the first forty or so years of the European project it seems virtually certain
that we could not but have concluded that the member states ruled the roost when it came to
any collective foreign policy initiatives they may have embarked upon. After all, during that
time endeavours of this kind “… ran almost completely without the support of the Brusselsbased institutions” (Dijkstra 2011, p. 1). However, the relevant provisions of the Amsterdam
Treaty and the outcome of the 1999 Cologne European Council muddied the water somewhat
(ibid.). These two pivotal events ushered in a significant reorganisation of how the EU
23
engaged with the rest of the world and brought about the appointment, by member states, of
“… the High Representative for the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP),
established a Policy Unit, nominated EU Special Representatives, and strengthened the
[Commission’s] Directorate-General for External Relations (DG E)” (ibid.).
These developments built on the aspirations contained in the 1992 Treaty on
European Union which, amongst other things, established the CFSP. The belief that the
institutions’ role in the framing and implementation of foreign policy had been greatly
enhanced and was possibly on the same level as that of the member states seems to be
supported by EU law. According to Article 27 EU the Commission “is fully associated with
the work carried out in the common foreign and security policy field” (quoted in Wessel
2009, p. 121). However, there are reasons to believe that the on-the-ground reality is not as
favourable to the institutions as such fine words might suggest. Despite the formal, and
informal (as is evident from the ‘nuances’ uncovered in recent research), ways in which this
article is enforced the prime players when it comes to the CFSP are still “… the Council and
– increasingly- the Political and Security Committee (PSC)…” (Wessel 2009, p. 122). If this
characterisation of where ultimate power in relation to EU foreign policy lies is accurate then
we should expect to see the preeminence of the member states reflected in the formation and
implementation of initiatives associated with the ENP. A more definitive conclusion will be
reached later in the paper after the selected evidence has been examined.
The Evolution of European Foreign Policy
Before dealing with the issue this paper is primarily concerned with (who controls the ENP)
we have decided to devote some space to tracing the evolution of European foreign policy
from its hesitant beginnings in the 1950s to the heavily structured concern it is today. This
seems like a worthy exercise for two reasons. First, it is useful to remind ourselves that the
current arrangements did not emerge from a vacuum and are instead the product of decades
of trial and error. Second, and possibly more importantly, this relatively brief account of the
road travelled to the CFSP should emphasize the sensitivities associated with European
foreign policy making and the related reluctance to hand significant control over it to
24
institutional actors, which is of particular relevance to anyone endeavouring the test the
validity of the theories outlined earlier.
Foreign policy and defence coordination among some Western European states (many
of whom joined the ECSC and later the EEC) has been happening for more than sixty years.
However, for most of that time this has happened “… within the broader framework of the
North Atlantic Treaty, under US leadership” (Wallace 2005, p. 430). The concerns that this
alliance was established to address (the Soviet threat and how to deal with post-war Germany
being principal among them) were of considerable importance to the founder members of the
ECSC too yet “None of the three founding treaties touched on foreign policy, let alone
defence” (ibid.). However, this binding together of the steel and coal industries of six
European states was, in effect, a response to the difficult international climate of the early
1950s. Following the outbreak of the Korean War (which was viewed, at least in the West,
as part of the battle against Communism) a “… reluctant French government…” came under
considerable pressure from the United States of America (USA) to not only “… accept the
full reconstruction of Germany heavy industry…” but to permit “…West German
rearmament…” too (ibid., pp 430-431). The vehicle through which it was hoped the latter
aim would be achieved was “… the Pleven Plan for a European Defence Community (EDC),
into which German units might be integrated” (ibid., p. 431). This initiative was brought a
stage further with the signing of the European Defence Treaty in Paris in March 1952, “…
which committed its signatories (under Art. 38) to examine the form of the political
superstructure needed to give the EDC direction and legitimacy” (ibid.). If the “… resulting
de Gasperi Plan for a European political community…” had been implemented as per the
text the ECSC six would have been transformed into “… an effective federation, with a
European executive accountable to a directly-elected European Parliament” (ibid.). Given
the foreign policy-related hang-ups about such deep integration (and the attendant
institutions) that arguably exist to this day the suggestions contained in this plan were
nothing if not if not radical.
However, two significant international events and an upsurge of nationalist sentiment
in one of the ECSC six ensured that the federalist dream remained exactly that. With the
perceived Communist threat having seemingly reduced following the death of the leader of
the USSR Josef Stalin in 1953 and the signing of the Korean armistice the following year the
25
French National Assembly rejected the de Gasperi Plan, and, as a consequence, the prospect
of establishing the EDC (ibid.). This, though, was not the end of the story with regard to the
formation of a (West) European-centred defence/foreign policy vehicle.
“An
intergovernmental compromise, promoted by the British [who were not members of the
ECSC], transformed the 1948 Treaty of Western Union (signed by Britain, France, the
Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxembourg, as a preliminary commitment in the negotiations
which led to the Atlantic Alliance), into the seven-member Western European Union (WEU),
bringing in West Germany and Italy” (ibid., emphasis added). The new grouping “… had a
ministerial council, a small secretariat, a consultative assembly, and an armaments agency
(primarily to control German arms production); but its military functions were incorporated
into Nato [North Atlantic Treaty Organisation]” (ibid.). Despite the taking of some tentative
steps towards the incorporation of such activities into the policy platform of the ECSC in the
years following the French rejection of the de Gasperi Plan it would be well over a decade
before the then EEC took its next significant step towards projecting something approaching
a coherent voice to the wider world.
As noted earlier, President de Gaulle of France was, rightly or wrongly, commonly
credited with doing (or not, as the case may be) more than most to stall the process of
European integration. After his departure from the political stage in 1969 “… the meeting of
the heads of state and government in The Hague in December of that year decided that their
foreign ministers should again investigate the possibilities for closer political co-operation”
(Wessel 2003, p. 270). Having quite clearly learned from the difficulties posed to member
states (some more than others) by the tasks the ultimately aborted EDC was intended to take
on it was unanimously agreed “… that defence issues would be left out of the proposals”
(ibid.). Having given the issue some consideration the foreign ministers published the
Davignon Report (which bore the name of the Belgian Foreign Office official who chaired
the committee responsible for its drafting) on 20 July 1970 – it “… was adopted by the
European Council in Luxembourg on 23 October…” that year (ibid.). The so-called “…
Luxembourg Report is usually seen as the constitutive document of the European Political
Co-operation (EPC)” (ibid.). Given the difficulties that had been encountered whenever the
possibility arose of the authority of member states being somehow diminished when it came
to the exercise of functions that they typically regarded as being central to their sovereign
26
status the promoters of this initiative proceeded with great care. To that end “The goal of
EPC was cooperation between EC member states, not the realization of common goals at the
international level” (Bickerton 2007, p. 26). Indeed, David Allen and William Wallace “…
observed of EPC that in its early stages of development, there was no mention of ‘common
policy’ at all (cited in Bickerton 2007, p. 26). Because of the no doubt deliberate decision
not to try and create a unified position among a group of states with greatly diverging
‘interests’ for most of the next decade and a half this particular enterprise “… developed
incrementally and established customs were on an ad hoc basis in new reports” (Wessel
2003, p. 270).
The institutions that had come into being since the inception of the ECSC were also
kept strictly at arms-length. The structure of EPC “… was firmly inter-governmental…”
(Bickerton 2007, p. 27). Its founding document (the Luxembourg Report) very “… clearly
differentiated between the business of the EC and the political issues pertaining to EPC”
(ibid.). The sense of this enterprise being the almost exclusive preserve of the member states
was further emphasised by the fact that “The role of the European Commission was limited
to making its views known only when the EPC work of foreign ministers directly affected
the Commission’s business in some way” (ibid.). Although this particular manifestation of
then EEC’s foreign policy never ultimately allowed two of the community’s so-called ‘holy
trinity’ of key institutions the kind of involvement they typically had in other policy areas the
1987 Single European Act brought an end to the rather stark separation that had previously
pertained. One of the most significant elements (as it related to foreign policy) of this
breakthrough in the European integration process was that “Consistency between EPC and
the EC became a formal rule…” (Smith 2004, p. 109). In order to uphold this requirement
“… it [EPC] began to involve other EC organizations (chiefly the Commission) in order to
make its decisions more consistent with EC activities” (ibid.). The next stage in the
evolution of European foreign policy was built upon that principle.
In the early 1990s the governments of the EEC member states were primarily focused
on one thing – “… monetary union and its institutional consequences…” (Wallace 2005, p.
435). However, “… revolutions in central and eastern Europe in the course of 1989, and the
rapid moves towards German reunification which followed in 1990, forced foreign and
security policy up…” the agenda of the Intergovernmental Conference (IGC) scheduled to
27
take place across the first two years of the last decade of the twentieth century (ibid.).
Tumultuous though these events were it took the outbreak of arguably the most destructive
conflict on European soil since the end of World War II to highlight the deficiencies of EPC
and the need (according to some at least) to better coordinate community responses to crises
of this gravity. In the years after “… an iron curtain…” had been erected across Europe
“From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic…” (Churchill 1946) there was little or
no official contact between the EEC and most of the states that found themselves within the
Soviet sphere of influence. The most notable exception to this general trend was Yugoslavia,
with which the community had “… been linked by agreements since 1970” (European
Economic Community 1990). While space limitations do not permit us to discuss the
intricacies of the breakup of what the official unitarian ideology of the so-called first
Yugoslavia would have us believe was“… one nation consisting of three tribes” (Stojanovic
1995, p. 348) the conflict it unleashed was a huge test of the EEC’s foreign policy
capabilities. While some analysts believe its initial response to the crisis “… did it nothing
but credit” (Nuttall 1994, p. 24), serious divisions soon emerged in relation to the
declarations of independence by Slovenia and Croatia (ibid., p. 18). This disunity was most
vividly demonstrated by the decision of Germany to support the secessionist claims of both
and, by virtue of the EPC’s consensus rule, the newly unified state found itself “… able to
force its views on the community because of its influence and weight…” (ibid.). The
requirement for unanimity ensured that many proposed responses to events in the Balkans
were stymied and the bloodletting continued without any significant interventions from the
EEC. This inability to act in a cogent fashion must have been all the more galling given the
links it had forged with Yugoslavia at a time when the continent was beset by seemingly
intractable ideological division. It was hoped that the creation of the CFSP would ensure that
the now EU could meet such challenges if they arose again in a unified and consistent
manner.
Following protracted discussions, most particularly about where defence issues
would fit into a common foreign policy, “A compromise was struck at the Nato summit in
Rome…” in late 1991 (Wallace 2005, p. 437). “The new Nato ‘Strategic Concept’, which
heads of government agreed, approved the development of European multinational forces,
but also reaffirmed the primacy of Nato as the forum for defence cooperation” (ibid., p. 438).
28
Having satisfactorily assuaged the concerns (for the time being at least) of those both inside
and outside the community on this fundamental point the parties to the Maastricht Treaty on
European Union were confident enough to assert in the opening statement of Article J that
“A common foreign and security policy is hereby established” (quoted in Wallace 2005, p.
438, emphasis added). However, the seemingly unambiguous nature of that declaration was
“… qualified by carefully-crafted subsequent clauses, which registered unresolved
differences” (Wallace 2005, p. 438). This apparently bright new dawn was also notable for
its maintenance of the status quo in relation to the relatively limited role played by the EU’s
institutions. The Council presidency (and, if required, its predecessor and successor)
retained exclusive control over “Policy initiative, representation and initiative…” (ibid.). By
contrast, “The Commission was to be [merely] ‘fully associated’ with discussions in this
inter-governmental pillar, and ‘the views of the European Parliament … duly taken into
consideration’” (ibid.).
The years between the adoption of the CFSP and the present day have seen some
revisions of the arrangements put in place as a result of the TEU. The Amsterdam Treaty
(1997) mandated the creation of a new post: “High Representative for the CFSP” (Europa
2012). This role (which was filled by the Spaniard Javier Solana) was intended to give the
policy “… a higher profile and make it more coherent” (ibid.). Given the controversy over
including defence issues in CFSP the incorporation of the so-called Petersberg Tasks (which
involved military personnel from across the EU being sent on humanitarian and ‘peacemaking’ missions) into Title V of the EU Treaty (ibid.) was quite possibly the most
significant element of the settlement reached in the Dutch city. This initiative was built upon
in the St. Malo Declaration of 1998, which saw the leaders of Britain and France call for the
EU to “… have the capacity for autonomous action, backed by credible military forces, the
means to decide to use them, and a readiness to do so, in order to respond to international
crises, acting in conformity with our respective obligations to Nato” (quoted in Deighton
2002, p. 725). Within five years of this call to arms the European Security and Defence
Policy (ESDP) was a living, breathing organism. After four decades of “… disagreement
and stalled initiatives, the EU now…” had “… the operational capacity and the political will
to intervene abroad for humanitarian, peace-keeping, crisis management and peacemaking
purposes” (Duke and Ojanen 2006, p. 477). The most recent refinements of the CFSP are
29
contained in the Lisbon Treaty, which came into force in January 2009. Arguably, the most
significant of them created, in effect, “… the European Foreign Minister envisaged in the
[currently moribund] Constitution…” (Paul 2008, p. 16). The High Representative of the
Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy (the post’s official title) “… acts as the
Union’s single foreign policy chief and as vice-president of the European Commission”
(ibid.). In an apparent effort to bridge the long-standing gap between ‘Community’ and
CFSP policy it was decided to “… combine the previous offices of the high representative
for CFSP and the commissioner for external affairs” (ibid.). Lisbon also gave rise to a new
institutional actor in the foreign policy sphere. In order to support the work of the High
Representative (Baroness Catherine Ashton of Britain at the time of writing) the European
External Actions Service (EEAS) was established in late 2009. Its remit is to “… help the
High Representative ensure the consistency and coordination of the Union’s external action
as well as prepare policy proposals and implement them after their approval by the Council”
(General Secretariat of the EU Council 2009, p. 3).
Who Controls the ENP?
As should be apparent from the brief, and admittedly selective, survey of European foreign
policy developments presented in the previous section this particular area of EU activity has,
it could be argued, arrived at its current configuration in very different ways to most of the
other policy areas for which the organization has been given responsibility.
Those
differences have narrowed in the last two decades since the adoption of the CFSP, which has
brought with it a raft of new institutional actors. For our purposes the arrival of these
additional players means the task of definitively identifying the real source of power in the
operation of the ENP has been somewhat complicated. On a general, pan-EU level “… the
rather complex and often idiosyncratic process of how the Council machinery deals with
Community legislation internally…” (Häge 2008, p. 535) is a considerable challenge to all
researchers. EU foreign policy is no less difficult to pick through, particularly for outside
observers. Even something as apparently simple as identifying the preferences of each
member state is shrouded in mystery as despite the general rule “… that decisions be taken
by a unanimous vote, actual voting rarely takes place” (Wessel 2009, p. 123). Instead,
30
“Whenever ambassadors do not expressly object to a Presidency’s summary of the debate, a
decision is believed to be taken” (ibid., emphasis added). There are, however, ways to
surmount these very real obstacles.
In the case of the ENP, and indeed virtually every other policy area for which the EU
has been afforded competence, a veritable mountain of supporting official documentation is
produced. While this literature is not notable for focusing on any disagreements that may
occur between, for example, the Council and the Commission over the ways in which
particular issues should be dealt with it does, when read carefully, offer clues as to the state
of this pivotal relationship at any given time. Academic assessments of the ENP as set forth
in peer-reviewed journals can also be drawn upon to try and uncover the respective levels of
influence the relevant actors possess with regard to the policy at issue. Some scholars
(whose work we will utilize later in the paper) have produced studies that offer valuable
insights into the exchanges between those actors and the consequences that flowed from
them. Despite its acknowledged difficulties in covering EU matters (Alarcón 2010, p. 405)
another potential source of useful information is media reportage. While the press is
typically not permitted to attend Council meetings it is not uncommon for the details of what
has been discussed to enter the public domain via the multitude of outlets operated by what
some refer to as the ‘fourth estate’. Unlike the bureaucratically-minded officials who record
EU business journalists quite often look for conflict among the union’s constituent parts, and
the personalities that populate them, upon which to build their stories. The dangers inherent
in trying to generate reliable research based “… mainly on personal insights and anecdotal
evidence…” (Häge 2008, p. 538) of the sort that the media largely relies upon are numerous.
However, it is the contention of this writer that a plausible account of where power
overwhelmingly resides in relation to the operation of the ENP can be divined from a
combination of official EU documentation, academic assessments and media reportage.
Having acknowledged the potential problems which our chosen research topic may
be subject to and outlined the sources of evidence on which the arguments set forth in the
remainder of this section will be based upon it seems apposite at this point to further clarify
the prism through what follows should be understood. Remember, our primary task is to
determine which, if indeed any, of the two grand theories of European integration best
explains the workings of the ENP. In order for the policy to be justifiably classified as a
31
neofunctionalist enterprise we will need to see compelling evidence of the Commission, or
maybe even the European Parliament or High Representative, driving the ENP in directions
that could be said to equate to the ‘ideals’ set out in the proposals they produced for the
Council’s consideration. As one has to allow for the possibility that the body representing
the interests of the member states may sometimes be in agreement with suggestions that
eschew traditional notions of realpolitik there also needs to be evidence of the Commission
getting to implement its normative agenda even though the outcome is not one that was
wanted by the member states. Applying the intergovernmentalist label to the ENP requires a
similar level of proof, albeit in reverse. In this instance the solutions to a particular difficulty
advocated by the Commission could be rejected out of hand at the outset. The preeminence
of national governments in relation to the institutions of the EU would also be apparent if
having initially afforded one of those bodies the leeway to act as per their ‘ideals’ they
subsequently, and successfully, intervened to end the policy entrepreneurship at issue.
The General Affairs Council of the EU first publicly raised the possibility of forging
stronger relationships with its neighbours in April 2002. This idea was, it seems, influenced
to some considerable degree by letters sent to the Spanish EU Presidency by the British
Foreign Secretary Jack Straw, Swedish Minister of Foreign Affairs Anna Lindh and Swedish
Minister of Trade Leif Pagrotsky earlier that year (Comelli 2004, p. 99). Four months later
Commissioner for External Relations Christopher Patten and High Representative for the
Common Foreign and Security Policy Javier Solana responded to the Council’s call to
suggest ways in which the idea could be progressed (2002). As one might have expected, the
joint letter produced by them raised some serious questions that would have to be addressed
before the plan “… to shape future relations with the countries of the wider [EU] border…”
(ibid.) could be realised. Its opening sentence also offered a subtle clue as to which of the
union’s principal actors was directing this particular initiative.
Patten and Solana’s
communication began thus: “The April General Affairs Council invited the Commission and
the High Representative to work up idea on the EU’s relations with its neighbours” (ibid.,
emphasis added). The implication of the use of the polite, but firm, invited seemed to be that
this proposed foreign policy development was firmly under the control of the Council. Any
decisive involvement that the Commission and High Representative would have was purely
at the discretion of the body representing national governments.
32
In March 2003 the Commission published a template for the ways in which the EU’s
relationship with the states on it borders could evolve. Amongst other things the document
set out possible paths “… for developing and implementing the Action Plans for each
country” and, more prosaically, “The financial implications of the new Neighbourhood
Policy…” (Commission of the European Communities 2003, pp 17-18). The next significant
contribution of the Commission came in May 2004. Its Strategy Paper set out in some
considerable detail the principles and practical considerations that, in their view, should
inform the workings of what was now commonly referred to as the ENP (2004). The
conclusions reached in that document provided further clues as to the existence of a
hierarchy when it came to this particular facet of EU foreign policy. While the role played
by the Commission in the pulling together of the various strands needed to make ENP
operational is undeniable the requirement on it to seek approval from a higher authority
before doing so is equally clear. In the Strategy Paper this requirement is acknowledged as
follows: “The Commission invites the Council to approve the orientations contained in the
present communication and to draw up conclusions on the way to carry this initiative
forward…” (ibid., p. 28, emphasis added). The no doubt carefully chosen language in this
passage is indicative of an institution that recognises the limitations on its power and the
need for it to secure the assent of one of its fellow EU actors before making the proposals it
puts forward a reality. It is also worth pointing out that in this instance the invitation issued
by the Commission is, because of the relative lack of legal weight behind it, altogether more
passive in nature that than of the General Council referred to earlier.
Just over a month after the publication of the Commission’s submission on the ENP it
was “…welcomed…” and, for the most part, “… endorsed…” by the member states meeting
in Luxembourg (Council of the European Union 2004, p. 11). However, despite the
apparently high level of agreement that existed the plan “… to share the benefits of an
enlarged EU with neighbouring countries in order to contribute to increased stability, security
and prosperity of the European Union and its neighbours” was to remain firmly under the
control of the Council. In the conclusions it reached on the ENP this was reiterated, albeit
subtly. On two occasions the Council ‘invited’ the Commission to work on particular aspects
of the strategy (ibid., p.12). It also saw fit to reemphasise that no actions could be taken
without its “… approval…” (ibid.).
33
The absence of any discernible disagreement between the member states and the
Commission with regard to the development of the ENP was apparent from a communication
issued by the Council just under a year later. Those that approved its contents declared
themselves very satisfied with the work the Commission had undertaken with regard to the
incorporation of five of the EU’s ‘neighbours’ (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Egypt, Georgia and
Lebanon) into its latest foreign policy initiative (Council of the European Union 2005, p. 11).
Indeed, the welcome afforded “… the Commission communication of 2 March on European
Neighbourhood Policy, as well as the national reports for the five countries…” was bordering
on effusive (ibid.). The ministers (and, in some cases, officials) gathered in Luxembourg for
the meeting “… endorsed the main thrust of the documents and thought they would form an
excellent basis for further development of the ENP” (ibid.). However, the previously noted
phenomenon of the Council littering its public comments with subtle reminders of its
position in the EU hierarchy was maintained in this communication. It requested that the
Commission should ensure “… that Member States will be kept fully informed of the
progress…” on drafting a joint action plan for Egypt and Lebanon (ibid., p. 12, emphasis
added). The Council also saw fit to reiterate “… that the structures laid down for the
[Association or Cooperation] Agreements should, if necessary be re-examined so that all the
priorities set out in the framework of the ENP are duly taken into account” (ibid., emphasis
added). These strictures, it could be argued, were repeatedly laid down in order to dissuade
policy entrepreneurship by the Commission of a kind that some, or all, of the member states
would regard as being injurious to their collective or individual interests.
The next major step forward in the evolution of the ENP was taken in 2006. At a
meeting in October of that year “The Council adopted a regulation establishing, and laying
down general provisions for, a European Neighbourhood and partnership instrument for the
2007-13 period…” (Council of the European Union 2006, p. 10). This created “… a legal
framework for the provision of Community assistance to support the EU’s European
neighbourhood policy” (ibid.). At this point it was anticipated that the following countries
and territories would participate: Algeria, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Egypt, Georgia,
Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, Libya, Moldova, Morocco, the Palestinian Authority, the Russian
Federation, Syria, Tunisia and Ukraine. (ibid.). These developments also prompted the
Commission to take stock of what had, and had not, been achieved since the inception of the
34
ENP. In a report prepared for the Council and the European Parliament it set out the
strengths and weaknesses of the policy as well as suggesting possible future initiatives
(2006). The Commission called for more to be done “… in relation to economic and
commercial issues, to visa-facilitation and migration management to people-to-people
contacts and contacts among administrators and regulators” (ibid., p. 14). This apparent
‘demand’ was somewhat watered down in the very next paragraph of the document
submitted to the other members of the EU’s ‘holy trinity’. The Commission conceded: “To
achieve this, Member States will need to play their part – the enhancements proposed here
will require both full political commitment and a commensurate economic and financial
commitment” (ibid., pp 13-14, emphasis added). In many ways this sentence encapsulates
the formal relationship between the Council and the Commission, most particularly when it
comes to foreign policy. Notwithstanding any leeway it may be granted from time to time
the latter’s principal, and acknowledged, function is to find and propose potential solutions to
perceived problems. It is then up to the former entity to decide how to proceed and what
level of resources (be they political, economic or otherwise) should be expended on the
enterprise at issue.
In the most recent substantive official document on the workings of the ENP
available at the time of writing the ongoing central role of the Council is again made clear,
albeit in the kind of diplomatic language routinely deployed by EU bureaucrats. One of the
conclusions in the document, which was jointly authored by the High Representative of the
Union for Foreign and Security Policy and the European Commission, calls “… on the
Council and the European Parliament to endorse its overall thrust and the concrete proposals
it puts forward” (2011, p. 21). This appeal to more effectively use the ENP as a vehicle to
deal with issues “… such as terrorism, irregular migration, [and] pollution of our common
seas and rivers” (ibid.) is directed at two of the EU’s pivotal institutions. Ultimately, though,
definitive decisions with regard to the serious problems just cited will only be taken if the
Council is of a mind to do so. While it is true that the provisions of the TEU and, most
recently, the Lisbon Treaty have considerably enhanced the role of the Parliament in relation
to ‘codecision’ or what is officially called the ‘ordinary legislative procedure’ (European
Parliament 2009, p. 5) the EU’s only directly-elected body does not, and is not likely to, play
a decisive role in determining the direction of the CFSP. In the view of a number of senior
35
political and academic figures there is no immediate prospect of the EP playing a “… strong
role…” in relation to this general policy area (Reinsch 2012). They maintain that “The
intergovernmental make-up of the EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) and
Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP) prevents it [the Parliament] from exercising a
significant control function…” (ibid.). Therefore, it also reasonable to conclude that the ENP
is similarly out of bounds when it comes to the ability of the EP, and the Commission, to play
the decisive role in shaping this particular component of EU foreign policy.
So, as anticipated earlier, the official documentation generated by the working out of
the ENP seems to indicate that each of the relevant institutions (most particularly the Council
and the Commission) is reconciled to the legalities regulating their activities and has tailored
their public pronouncements accordingly. However, there is some reason to believe that the
Commission has viewed itself (and maybe still does) as being possessed of more ‘real’
influence than the Council when it comes to EU foreign policy (Kelley 2006, p. 31). This
perception, it could be argued, is largely based on the soundly based assertion that the
Commission has the preeminent role in the day-to-day operation of ENP (Jones and Clark
2008, p. 558). Such a characterization of the situation fails to take into account the impact
that less overt actions have on what emerges from the policy-making process. The academic
literature utilized in this paper will help us to better understand the central role that the more
discreet actors and actions associated with the ENP play in its ongoing evolution.
One of the key elements of the Commission’s 2004 Strategy Paper related to the
‘Commitment to Shared Values’ which the EU apparently expected its new ‘neighbours’ to
adhere to. These included strengthening democracy, respecting human rights, supporting
civil society organisations, cooperating with the International Criminal Court, and fighting
terrorism (Bosse 2007, pp 47-48). However, in many of the country Action Plans that were
subsequently drafted the emphasis put on these seemingly non-negotiable ‘values’ was not to
the extent that one might have imagined. This apparent about-turn was evident, for example,
in the document produced for Jordan. It offered “… no precise definition of the steps to be
taken towards political reform, specifically in respect to the freedom of expression, the
independence of the media, development of civil society and implementation of international
law” (ibid., p. 51). The change from the high-minded aspirations of the Strategy Paper to the
less demanding contents of the Action Plan can, it seems, be attributed “… to the
36
intergovernmental character of the negotiations…” (ibid., p. 52). Unlike the enlargement
process, the drafting of these ENP documents came about as a result of ‘proper negotiations’
conducted by the Council on behalf of the member states as opposed to the usual practice of
letting the Commission take the lead role when it came to dealing with potential accession
states (ibid.). The reason why this happened is no mystery. As many of the EU’s southern
neighbours have problems that the members states bordering the Mediterranean would not
welcome onto their territory the no doubt laudable aim of the Commission to export what
some would regard as best practice with regard to human rights, the rule of law, democracy
etc. were sacrificed at the altar of the “… traditional security interests…” (ibid.) of, amongst
others, France, Spain and Italy. It was feared that the promotion of these ‘values’ could,
initially at least, destablise many of the authoritarian regimes to the south of these states.
Among the more undesirable consequences (from the point of view of the EU’s
Mediterranean group) of such developments would be a potential increase in the number of
migrants arriving on their shores and the possibility that power could be seized by groups
that were far less amenable to Western ‘interests’ (Jones and Clarke 2008, p. 555).
This fear did not seem to be as prevalent at the outset of the ENP. At that point in the
policy’s evolution member states seemed relatively sanguine about the level of power they
had delegated to the Commission. However, that stance was not maintained. As noted
earlier, it was the Council that played the central role in the negotiations out of which the
respective Action Plans for the EU’s new ‘neighbours’ emerged. Given the Commission’s
ongoing preeminence in the day-to-day operation of the ENP (ibid., p. 558) one would have
expected them to be similarly involved when it came to these talks. They tried to be initially.
However, “… the Council took more direct control of the policy when it was felt that the
Commission was overstepping its power by starting direct negotiations with potential new
‘neighbours’” (Zaiotti 2007, p. 157). As the Commission’s initiative was stopped quite early
on one cannot be sure about whether or not the outcome of the negotiations would have been
at variance with the wishes of the member states. What the intervention of the Council does
illustrate is the willingness of the EU’s ultimate decision-making body to assert its position
in the union’s hierarchical structure “… if the issue was politically relevant or it entailed
questions of foreign policy” (ibid.).
37
It would, however, be a mistake to think that the Council only saw fit to act in
relation to issues pertaining to how the EU projected its ‘hard’ power to the greater world.
The concerns of member states on the shores of the Mediterranean were also focused on the
economic implications of the deals forged with their new ‘neighbours’. Although each
Action Plan was the result of bi-lateral negotiations between the EU Council and each state
or territory hoping to come under the remit of the ENP when taken together their collective
impact would, if followed through on, be quite considerable in terms of the demands they
made on the member states. It was the Commission’s view that granting those that came
under the ENP umbrella significant access to the EU’s vast consumer market was one of the
central components of the policy (2006, p. 14). This, however, proved to be a major problem
for the EU’s Mediterranean states. Given the very notable enthusiasm of, for example,
France for the efforts of a Commission official in trying to incorporate their southern
‘neighbours’ into the ENP (Jones and Clark 2008, p. 554) one might have expected a more
generous response to the suggestion that these less prosperous states be afforded the chance
to improve their situations. Instead, Spain, Italy, Greece and France adopted a “most
defensive” position and decided not to make any concessions with regard to their domestic
agriculture industries which may have been of benefit to these third countries (ibid., p. 558).
The events of the so-called ‘Arab Spring’ throughout 2011 were also a serious
challenge to the apparently serene progress of the ENP since its official inception seven years
earlier. While not all of the North African and Middle Eastern states where people took to
the streets, and in some cases took up arms, to protest against their rulers were associated
with the policy five (Algeria, Egypt, Libya, Syria, and Tunisia) were. These popular
‘uprisings’ seriously called into question the degree to which one of the ENP’s central
objectives had been advanced. A review of how well the aspirations expressed in the policy
had been met suggested “… that EU support to political reforms in neighbouring countries
has met with limited results” (High Representative and European Commission 2011, p. 1).
Who, though, was responsible for this ‘failure’? The Commissioner charged with overseeing
the ENP seemed to suggest that much of the blame could be pinned on the member states and
their alleged collective interest in maintaining ‘stability’ in the states and territories to the
east and south of the EU. According to Stefan Füle “… Europe was not vocal enough in its
defence of human rights and democratic forces in north Africa” owing “… ‘to the
38
assumption that authoritarian regimes were a guarantee of stability in the region’” (quoted in
Beesley and Fitzgerald 2011). He further suggested: “This was not even realpolitik. It was,
at best, short-termism, - and the kind of short-termism that makes the long term ever more
difficult to build” (ibid.). These very pointed comments hint at the tensions that probably
surface from time to time between the Commission and the Council with regard to the ‘ideal’
solutions suggested by the former and the ‘pragmatic’ decisions taken by the latter.
However, one would be mistaken to in any way equate the public letting off of steam (as in
the Füle case) with possession of the legal authority or actual capacity to address any
perceived wrong in the manner you deem most appropriate.
The true location of power in this relationship (as it relates to the ENP) has also been
acknowledged by a German Green MEP. During the course of reacting to a pledge by the
EU’s institutions to provide an additional €250m per annum to the sixteen neighbouring
states and territories covered by the policy Franzsika Brantner noted that “Proposed ‘carrots’
of increased mobility for citizens from Europe’s neighbourhood, better market access and
more funds will remain empty promises if member states fail to buy-in” (quoted in Rettman
2011, emphasis added). She also claimed that many of the EU 27 could be less likely to
commit to this proposal and because “… of budget cutbacks and the current debates on
border controls…” (ibid.) may instead decide to give priority to their respective national
interests. Therefore, it seems logical to suggest that any ‘progress’ with regard to this and
other aspects of the ENP could only come about if those engaged in the intergovernmental
bargaining process deem the proposed action or actions to be compatible with what they
define their interests to be.
The upheaval in North Africa also led to a dispute between member states as to how
the resources already allocated to the ENP should be distributed. According to a report
originally published in the Belgian/Flemish daily newspaper De Standaard a “… proposal
presented by six Southern European countries to transfer financial support from the EU’s
Eastern Neighbours to countries on the southern shore of the Mediterranean … prompted a
dismayed reaction from Central European governments” (Neefs 2011). This was not the first
time that disagreement had arisen in relation to which parts of the EU’s ‘neighbourhood’
should be prioritized under the ENP (Reuters 2007), although it should be acknowledged that
previous splits did not occur at a time of potentially epoch-changing upheaval. Interestingly,
39
in this case it was the Commissioner responsible for the ENP who acted to try and ensure
that the brewing disagreement was headed off. One could undoubtedly interpret Stefan
Füle’s intervention as an attempt to exploit the apparent differences between member states
in order to advance whatever covert ‘agenda’ the Commission allegedly may have when it
comes to the ENP. However, his public comments on the matter do not seem to support this
interpretation. Mr. Füle said: “No one is suggesting that the EU should focus all of its efforts
on the South. No, our commitment to the East will remain unchanged” (quoted in Neefs
2011). If, as was apparently intended, this effort at reassurance meant that all of the member
state governments were no longer divided on what direction the monies allocated to the ENP
should go then it surely stands to reason that the opportunities for policy entrepreneurship by
the Commission would be greatly reduced, if not totally eliminated. One could also add that
Mr. Füle’s soothing words merely reflected an admirable fidelity to and respect for the
clearly drawn lines of institutional power and responsibility laid down in the EU treaties.
This apparent acceptance of his, and the Commission’s, place in the hierarchy of the
EU’s institutional structure is worthy of further comment. As was demonstrated earlier the
Commission seemed to regard itself as a pivotal player in foreign policy (Kelley 2006, p. 31)
and acted accordingly in the early stages of the ENP’s evolution (Zaiotti 2007, p. 157).
However, the Council reacted strongly against this perceived overstepping of the mark
(ibid.). This, it seems, led to the Commission adopting a less entrepreneurial role in relation
to the ENP. The views of a British diplomat are revelatory in that regard. He says that the
Commission has acted like “… an organization that was trying to manage conflicting
expectations and priorities and take a balanced view without setting out its own view”
(quoted in Jones and Clark 2008, p. 555). In his view it is “A moderate organization trying
to build consensus” (ibid.). If this characterization of the Commission and its role in the
operation of the ENP is accurate then it may be reasonable to conclude that this particular
member of the EU’s so-called ‘holy trinity’ has dispensed with whatever entrepreneurial
instincts it may have previously had and instead now sees its primary task as that of
mediating the disputes that may occur between member states from time to time.
Two things should be apparent from the official EU documentation, academic
assessments and media sources drawn upon in this section of the paper. First, even relatively
uncontroversial policy areas like the ENP can generate heated, and sometimes public,
40
disagreements between the EU’s institutional actors and their agents. However, one should
be careful about regarding these relatively rare outbreaks of disharmony as providing
incontrovertible evidence that the Council and Commission, in particular, are engaged in an
ongoing battle over the direction of this and all other aspects of EU foreign policy. Second,
and most importantly, there seems to be a clearly understood and often stated acceptance that
even though members of the Commission or the EP may privately wish it were different
(primarily, it seems, for reasons of ‘morality’) the Council has exclusively retained for itself,
through a variety of means, the ultimate authority to decide upon whatever course of action
is ultimately taken. As a consequence, EU foreign policy in general, and the ENP in
particular, shows little or no signs of having been ‘captured’ by the union’s nongovernmental components.
Conclusions
The principal claim of the two grand theories of European integration is that each can best
explain what has transpired since the establishment of the ECSC in 1951. Although the
perceived utility of both neofunctionalism and intergovernmentalism has fluctuated in the
intervening period the contrary explanations advanced by them still, to a considerable extent,
inform contemporary debates on the issue. Our particular concern in this paper was to
determine if either of these general theories, or any of their respective offshoots, was
applicable to EU foreign policy as it is currently constituted. To that end we traced the
evolution of the ENP from it being the germ of an idea in 2002 to the multi-faceted vehicle it
is today. This was done by examining official EU documentation generated by the
implementation of the policy and academic assessments and media coverage of the initiatives
and controversies associated with it.
As already noted both of the grand theories are seen to have had particular periods
when the reasoning underpinning them seemed to roughly equate to real-world events. In
the case of neofunctionalism, the suggestion that states were but one of a multitude of
institutional and other actors which played a part in the apparently unstoppable momentum
of European integration (Bache et al 2011, p. 8) looked plausible given developments in the
1950s and, arguably, up to the mid-1960s. However, the subsequent slowdown in integrative
41
initiatives led even the father of the theory, Ernst Haas, to declare, on two occasions in the
1970s, that it had become “obsolescent” (Ruggie et al 2005, p. 279). The agreement and
signing of the SEA in the mid-1980s brought about a revival in the fortunes of
neofunctionalism (ibid., p. 280) but the ways in which it has come in and out of fashion
suggests its usefulness as an explanatory vehicle is limited given that its credibility is directly
associated with the speed and ways in which integration is proceeding at any given time. By
contrast, the intergovernmentalist account does not seem as dependent on the prevailing
circumstances to give credence to its claims. Its principal strength is derived, according to
Stanley Hoffman, from the legal and political legitimacy that member states possess in
relation to both their native populations and the institutions and rules of the European project
(Bache et al 2011, p. 12). This unchanging reality may not always be clearly visible in the
actions of states given their propensity to afford the institutions autonomy to the extent that
they find acceptable (Pierson 1996, p. 134) but it can become more apparent if the policy at
issue is deemed to impact on issues of vital national interest.
This also has quite
considerable implications for the claim that European integration as a whole is best
understood through one theoretical prism or other.
Loathe though some of them may be to do so most researchers with an interest in the
EU surely accept that examining each and every aspect of its activities is a task that is close
to impossible. This acceptance, however reluctant it may be, is the principal reason why
they endeavour to explain the whole on the basis on whatever findings may result from a
case-study centred on a particular policy area (Schmidt 1996, p. 234). As Suzanne Schmidt
wisely points out doing so is fraught with dangers. She suggests that some scholarly
disagreement with regard to European integration “… may simply be caused by the
arbitrariness of the empirical foundation: had another sector been chosen, the analyst might
have come to contrary conclusions” (ibid.). It is our contention that given how unlikely it is
any researchers will ever be possessed of sufficient time, and money, to examine in detail
every aspect of the EU’s activities those that are tempted to draw general conclusions from
quite narrowly focused studies should desist from doing so. This is not a call for researchers
to turn away from the long-established field of EU studies. They should, instead, focus their
attentions on particular policy areas (Bache et al 2011, p. 14).
42
In this paper we attempted to determine who controls European foreign policy by
examining one of its constituent parts - the ENP. On the basis of the insights gleaned from
the sources used it seems reasonable to conclude that this particular enterprise, and by
extension EU foreign policy as a whole, is primarily an intergovernmentalist enterprise. This
is explicitly, and repeatedly, acknowledged by the institutional actors (e.g. Patten and Solana
2002; High Representative and European Commission 2011, p. 21) - entities that, according
to the neofunctionalist account, are said to be possessed of both the inclination and capacity
to develop any given policy, or the totality of the union’s actions, in ways that the member
states may not have wished. It is also commonplace for the Council to subtly, but firmly
emphasise in its communications on the ENP that it is the ultimate decision-making body
when it comes to each and every significant aspect of this policy (e.g. Council of the
European Union 2004, p. 11; Council of the European Union 2005, p. 12). While it may be
tempting to believe that the relevant Commissioner has considerably more autonomy than
the formal position would suggest there is no evidence (that this writer could discern) that
the use of informal, and sometimes public, channels of communication and persuasion
(Neefs 2011; Beesley and Fitzgerald 2011) cause a reluctant Council to move in ways that it
ordinarily would not. In fact, the opposite seems to be the case (Jones and Clark 2008, p.
558; Bosse 2007, p. 52; Zaiotti 2007, p. 157). Despite the proliferation of institutional actors
in this area since the coming into force of the TEU (Dijkstra 2011, p. 1; Duke and Ojanen
2006, p. 477; Paul 2008, p. 16 ) it is surely not a coincidence that the only (admittedly
preexisting) one in the EU structure as a whole with the right to make binding rulings on
member states, EU bodies, and citizens – the European Court of Justice (ECJ) – “… does not
have jurisdiction to monitor…” the provisions of the CFSP (Court of Justice of the European
Union 2011, emphasis added). Therefore, it seems fairly certain that the ENP and its foreign
policy parent will be run along intergovernmentalist lines for some time to come.
43
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